Page 15 of Dirty Play

He straightens and turns, his green eyes locking onto mine immediately. There’s no surprise in them, just a flicker of mild annoyance that quickly melts into his usual cool detachment.

“Ms. Moody,” he greets, standing to his full, imposing height. His tone is as flat as the mat beneath his feet. “To what do I owe the pleasure?Again.”

“I wanted to inform you that I moved your interview.” I keep my tone polite, walking closer. My heels click against the floor, sounding almost absurdly loud in the stillness.

“I told you to cancel it,” he says, grabbing a towel and wiping the back of his neck.

“And I didn’t say I would,” I counter, planting myself firmly in his line of sight.

He scoffs, tossing the towel aside. “Listen to me very carefully, Livia.” He takes a step toward me, and my heart flutters at the sound of my name from his mouth. “I don’t do interviews outside of post-game press conferences.”

“I’m here to ensure that changes.” I cross my arms as a barrier between us as I fight to keep my eyes on his face and not his body. I don’t like what his presence does to me.

He steps even closer, and damn, he’s enormous. Even without his skates, he towers over me, all heat, tension, and barely leashed irritation.

“You’re like a damn mosquito.” His voice drops, low and rough.

Mosquito. That’s better than a leech, at least.

“You can swat at me all you want, but I’m not going anywhere,” I shoot back. My heart’s pounding, but I keep my tone steady.

“So it seems.” His green eyes narrow just before they drag down my frame and back up to my face.

I try to ignore the way my skin tingles under his gaze.

“What do I have to do to make you agree to the interview?” I ask, my voice firm but slightly strained. I hate how my body reacts to him, but there’s no way I’m backing down.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes roam my face, lingering on my lips for a beat too long before flicking back to mine. The corner of his mouth curves upward, slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what he’s about to say will knock me off balance.

“Kiss me,” he says, his voice low, the words wrapping around me like a live wire.

For a moment, the air in the room vanishes. My heart drops into my stomach, and then it’s racing so fast I swear he can hear it.

“Kiss you?” I manage, my voice cracking slightly.

“You asked. That’s my price.” He shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I feel the blood rush to my face, my cheeks burning hotter than the damn sun. “That’s not funny,” I say, even though I know he’s not joking. Is he?

“Who said it was?” He arches a brow, his smirk deepening.

My mouth opens, then closes. I’m entirely unprepared for this turn of events. My brain is a jumbled mess of indignation, shock, and, God help me, a tiny flicker of intrigue. And arousal.Crap.

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“No?” he asks, stepping even closer. The distance between us is almost non-existent now, his eight pack almost brushing against my crossed arms. “You asked what it would take, and I answered.”

My pulse is pounding in my ears, and I can barely think straight with him this close. His scent invades my senses, muddling my already scattered thoughts.

“I…” My words catch in my throat as his smirk softens, shifting into something else.

And then he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Relax, Moody. I’m messing with you.”

“Real mature.” I glare at him, my embarrassment quickly morphing into irritation.

“You called me a big toddler.” He shrugs, still looking down at me.

I take a steadying breath and step back, refusing to let him rattle me further.

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